There is no Future..
by BohemianGeek
Summary: RENTfic set 2 years in the future; Mark remembers the events that occur after the musical ends. (I don't even think it is PG-13, but just in case..)


..There Is No Future..  
  
Author's notes: Ha, "author's notes", more like caution sign.. anyways,   
this is my first official fanfic. That means that I'd really like feedback. I   
really don't care what you say (but just in case it's bad, sugarcoating is   
allowed), I just want to know what I'm doing wrong when I write and  
some tips on how to improve my writing would be nice. E-mail me @   
TangoRENT@aol.com   
P.S. This is set about 2 years or so in the future, and Mimi has since  
pasted on.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Mark tightened his old coat around himself as another cold gust   
of air blew past him. The buildings surrounding the small cemetary made  
it hard to tell exactly where in the sky the sun had run off to, but   
Mark was willing to bet he had a good thirty minutes or so before it was  
totally dark out. His grip on the bouquet of assorted flowers he'd had  
loosened, and the entire bundle hit the ground on a stranger's gravestone.  
  
"Oh, sorry Mr. .. Mr. Johnson..? Jackson?" Mark squinted at the   
gravestone, even with his glasses on, the print was too faded to make-  
out. "Just..uh, sorry."  
  
Mark gathered up the flowers, feeling a bit guilty about dropping   
them earlier, he left one flower at the gravestone that was unreadable.  
He trudged through the eerily silent place, until he found what he'd been  
searching for. He smiled slightly to himself and set all but one of the  
flowers down neatly in front of the fresh gravestone, his friendly smile  
soon left along with his composure as audible whimpers escaped his throat,  
as he still fought to control himself.  
  
"Hi Mimi," Mark's voice broke as he said her name. " I hope that  
this is a good enough spot for you. We all tried to find a better place  
for you, but we decided that it would be best if we all stuck together."  
  
The one flower Mark had kept in his hand was placed in front of   
the gravestone next the Mimi's.   
  
"Hey, Angel, still dancing to the beat of your own drum?" A   
smile crept up into Mark's face, and bloomed in true happiness for  
a moment. "You two are probably having the biggest  
party in heaven. I can see it now, God in zebra-printed tights. Only  
you could get him into those." The smile slowly faded.   
  
The broodish filmmaker's head dropped. He tried the best he could,  
but being in the presence of the gravestones of his two friends broke  
down every barrier he'd tried to build up since that morning when he'd   
decided that it was time to visit. He'd remembered trying to convince  
Roger to come with him, but Roger's continuous excuse was "I'm not ready  
yet." Mark had never even concidered Roger's words an excuse until the  
subject had wandered into a chat between him and Maureen. She'd been in a   
bad mood, so Mark wasn't totally sure whether that was really her view on   
it, but that one small comment changed Mark's view on Roger ever so slightly.   
  
Then again, it had been a year since Mimi's death, and two since  
Angel's. Everyone had changed, whether for better or for worse. Collins  
and Benny, oddly enough, had a small fling right before Mimi's death. After  
that, Benny broke it off, deciding to "permenently leave New York."   
Unfortunetly for him, 'permenently' came in the embodiment of a plane-  
crash. He died exactly 2 months after Mimi, only Collins and Mark attended   
the funeral. Benny's wife, Allison, claimed her excuse for not attending was  
business.   
  
Collins had been heartbroken, even though he didn't love Benny like   
Angel, he felt guilty. Guilty for seemingly betraying Angel while being with  
Benny, and then forcing Benny onto the plane that ended his life. Collins fell  
into a deep depression for a few months. Then, he simply and suddenly  
changed. He became a full-time anarchist, and as of the present day had been in  
police custidy a total of 4 times.  
  
Roger had closed up even more than before he met Mimi. Her death   
crushed him, though he'd never admit it. He'd attempted suicide once, but  
Mark had walked in on him. Roger tried to take and overdose of Mark's   
depression pills he'd found in the cupboard, only to collapse in a heap on   
the floor, crying. Mark tried his best to get Roger to go to the Life Support  
meetings, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Mark tried everything he could  
to help Roger, but in the end all he could do was hide his pills.  
  
Mark had spent his last few days at a hopital, where the docters  
would stare at him and scratch their heads. He'd been blacking out constantly   
for the past few months, sometimes just staying silent a few minutes and forget-  
ing what'd happened. Sometimes he'd faint, even if he was walking on the sidewalk,  
it would happen suddenly and it frightened the docters. They'd told him that  
he should never be alone, if for example, he'd faint while walking down a flight  
of stairs. That news did chill Mark, but he didn't dare ask any of his other   
friends to babysit him; they all had their own problems.  
  
Maureen and Joanne had a rough time, but not half as rough as the rest  
of them had had. They'd toured the U.S., performing in small staged protests  
and sometimes even short plays. Once they'd reached California, in a moment  
of spontaneity, flew to Hawaii and got married. Their current residence was in a  
comfortable shack on the beach.   
  
Mark looked up at Mimi's gravestone a moment and shook his head slightly,  
clearing his mind and the fear of blacking out crept into his mind again. He  
took off his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut a moment, allowing the last of  
his tears to fall. Mark swiped away the older, drying tears from his glasses and  
put them back on.   
  
"I have to go now, guys. I'll probably see you in a few weeks, maybe I  
can get Roger to come this time," Mark's eyes wandered to Mimi's gravestone   
again, "I promise I'll do my best."  
  
"As for you," Mark turned to Angel's gravestone," We bailed Collins again  
last friday; he's fine." Mark kissed his fingers and lightly brushed both their  
gravestones, and stood up from his crouching position. The breeze bit at him  
immediately and he tightened his old coats around himself again, and began his   
long walk home.   



End file.
